Synchrony
by TheseAreOurStoriez
Summary: UPDATED CH. 2! There are dates in our lives that serve as markers, where what came before and what follow feel like two different lifetimes. May 17, 2011 is one such date for Elliot and Olivia. The action will pick up immediately following the 12th Season finale and recount what has transpired in the nearly four years since, taking us through to the present (mid-Season 16).
1. Chapter 1 - Prologue

**_This is just a little snippet. This chapter gives a glimpse of Elliot and Olivia's current disposition. I plan to pick up the next chapter the minute after Elliot shot Jenna in the final scene of Smoked, and the camera panned out. I've been a huge fan of all things SVU, including fanfic, for years. This is my first attempt at writing. I'd love all feedback... good, bad, or otherwise. Let me know what you think :) ... [Sometimes, I wish I was Dick Wolf, just so I owned these amazing characters.]_**

_Present Day_

He had spent what felt like hours trying to get comfortable, before finally giving up and settling on the floor where he found himself now with his pillow and blanket. Elliot hasn't slept in an actual bed for months. It was foolish for him to expect tonight would be any different.

Not that it mattered where he spent the hours of the night, because if recent history was any indication the sleep wouldn't come anyway. His eyes focused on no spot in particular on the ceiling he stayed awake, because even though his memory of the last three years haunted his conscious mind, the ghosts that might appear in his sleep scared him more.

If he knew one thing for certain, it was that he was no longer the man he was before he went under. He used to pride himself as being a man of integrity, whose stubbornness was outweighed only by his resolve to do right by victims and by the people he loved. And when his time spent under tested each of those values, he had failed miserably. Could he really blame himself though? After all, she was the one who motivated him to uphold those principles. She was the one who made him want to be a better cop, a better partner, a better father, a better man. And like the coward he was, he had left her.

If he had known what spending 3 years as that bastard's right-hand man would do to him... that it would make him callous and cold and weak and pitiful and self-doubting and scoop all the life out of him until he was no more than a shell of the man he once had been, he might have chosen differently. He might have stayed. But fear is intoxicating. It drives people to do things they otherwise wouldn't. And love, well love is at the root of all fear. So, when it came to his fear of losing, or worse hurting, the only woman he'd truly ever loved, he had done the one thing he knew how to do best. Run.

The time had come though, for Elliot to face his fear. No doubt the news he delivered would change the course of Olivia's life. Probably, it would break her heart. But he knew she was going to find out eventually, and if anyone was going to be the one to tell her it would be him. He felt responsible, and it was time for him to take responsibility. So, tomorrow morning he would go down to the 1-6, ask for Sergeant Benson, say what needed to be said, and do the opposite of run.

* * *

The alarm squealed and Olivia stirred. Opening her eyes just enough to make out the red 4:45 displayed on the clock, yet another night had passed when she didn't get nearly enough sleep. Not that she minded much. For the first time in her 46 years the reality she awoke to was just as great as the best of dreams she had at night.

Olivia Benson was more in love than she'd ever been. Until now, she didn't know life could have so much meaning, so much color. With him, everything was brighter... more vibrant. When she looked down at Noah in his crib, Olivia knew that her life was made up of more than victims and perps. Good guys and bad guys. She knew that no matter how the cards fell at the end of a case, there was love. The love she had for her new son was unlike anything she'd ever experienced. It filled not only the emptiness in her heart resulting from never feeling part of a real family, but it filled voids in her life and her soul that she never even knew existed. And as relentlessly as she fought for victims, she would fight even harder for her little boy.

Sure, there might be something or _someone_ that could make her life even fuller, if she was completely honest with herself. But these days her prerogative was to fool herself just a little. She tried to forget about him. And the pain of the last 3 years. She drowned herself in her work and spent every moment she came up for air completely focused on Noah. After 12 years of self-deception and a few more of blatant foolishness she'd given up hope of having it all, of having him. Not by choice. She had to for herself... and her son.


	2. Chapter 2 - Silence and Blue

**Chapter 2**

**This picks up right where the Season 12 finale "Smoked" ended.**

_May 17, 2011_

Silence and blue. That was all she heard. That was all she saw. Not the commotion of the squad room, not the beeping of the paramedics' monitors, not the "Clear" and the jolt as they came to replace her over Sister Peg and attempted to revive the most selfless woman she'd ever known. Not the red of the blood. The blood that was everywhere, on the floor, on her clothes, on her hands. None of that registered in Olivia's mind. Her senses were muted to everything except for the silence that weighed down on her and the blue of Elliot's eyes. Never had she seen her partner so stunned. She thought that over the past 12 years she had seen the full range of human emotion in those eyes. But this was something completely different. As he kneeled over Jenna's lifeless body, Elliot could not believe, could not process what he had done. And she couldn't either.

She felt the tears stinging the back of her eyes and then her own body shuddering snapped her back to consciousness. Not sure whether seconds or minutes had passed, she didn't take her eyes away until she realized Elliot's had shifted and were looking in another direction. Up. As Cragen emerged from his office, Olivia closed her eyes in a futile attempt to erase it all. To pretend none of this was happening.

"Cap...I, " Elliot was broken.

"Elliot, it was a clean shot. You did what you had to do. Tucker is on his way. Take a minute. Get yourself together, clean up. Then just tell them what happened."

_Just tell them what happened? Tell ME what happened, Olivia thought. Because I don't fucking know. One minute I was talking to Jenna and the next Elliot's kneeling over her dead body._

With a silent nod of his head, Elliot rose slowly. Standing, he left Olivia alone on floor level with her thoughts. By the time she found the strength to stand, he was gone. There was only one place he would go in a moment like this.

She climbed the stairs to the crib and with each step the reality of Jenna's death and Elliot's role in it started to sink in. The fog of shock was starting to lift, and she could almost think clearly again. Even though she didn't actually feel better, she told herself she needed to be strong for Elliot.

As she opened the door, she prepared herself for the worst. She expected Elliot to be punching a locker, shouting at himself or God, tearing apart the room. She never expected what she found. Her partner – her brash, cocky, _man_ of a partner – was curled up on a bottom bunk crying the most painful, silent tears she'd ever seen.

She walked toward him tentatively. She felt like she knew everything there was to know about him, but this Elliot was still a bit of a mystery to her. Sure, she'd witnessed this Elliot on rare occasions, like when Gitano killed Ryan and nearly killed Elliot or when he thought he'd lost his wife and unborn son. And if anyone knew how to act, what to say to him, what to do when he was like this, it was her. Still she hesitated, because she knew that when Elliot was like this, he was so volatile that if she made a misstep, it would have implications on their relationship for a long time to come, maybe forever. So instead of speaking, she waited.

"Go away, Olivia." She could barely hear his words muffled by the pillow and his tears.

Ten or even eight years ago she might have conceded by turning around and walking back out the door. She might have believed him when he said he needed to be alone. Truth be told, she wanted to leave. She couldn't handle seeing Elliot Stabler, the strongest man she knew, crying and broken. But now, she knew better. She knew what Elliot needed. She knew that her leaving was not it. So she would stay until he talked.

She sat down on the bunk across from him and watched silent tears escape the corners of his eyes. Elliot had never looked so small. She didn't know he even had this many tears in him, didn't know where they were coming from. Everything inside her wanted to reach out and touch him. She wanted to hold him like he held her after Sonya died in her arms or after she'd nearly been shot at the airport. She wanted to envelop him, kiss away his tears, feel him in her arms, on her skin, and never let go. But she knew that wasn't an option. That had never been an option.

So, she did what she always resorted to doing. She couldn't touch him with her hands or her body, so she tried to touch him with her words instead.

"You were aiming for her arm, Elliot."

Sitting up, he shifted his body to face her and put his feet on the floor. But his eyes he kept trained on the hands he held clasped between his knees. Slumped over and leaning forward, he looked like all the wind and all the life had been knocked out of him.

"I know."

Olivia took a small breath. She didn't want him to see that she was relieved to hear his confirmation, because a part of her had questioned whether he actually had been aiming for Jenna's arm.

"... but I missed. And that's on me. That girl's death – "

"El, stop. Don't do this to yourself."

"Jenna."

When he said her name, the reality of the moment they were in came crashing down on Olivia.

"Jenna's death – and the life she doesn't get to live – that's on me. What makes me any different than the scum bags in that holding cell who took her mother's life? Grier's a dirty fed who helped to kill Annette, but I'm just as dirty a fucking cop for killing her 16-year-old daughter!"

"You're not scum and you're not a dirty cop. You're a man with integrity and ..."

She knew that under normal circumstances, feeding Elliot's ego would serve her well, but these were not normal circumstances and this was not the Elliot she typically dealt with. So, she redirected, trying to share in the blame.

"El, it's just as much my fault. I should have recognized the state she was in. She was so fragile. I never should have walked her back. But I did... I walked her back, and I pointed out Eddie and Grier to her. I might as well have pulled the trigger. I didn't do my job like I should have, so you _had_ to do yours."

Elliot's head shot up and his eyes pierced through hers straight to her heart. She swore he was staring right at her soul.

"That's all you were doing when you took that shot, Elliot... your job."

When she finished speaking, their eyes continued the conversation. She could feel that something in Elliot had shifted. He was no longer crestfallen. His sadness and despair had been replaced by something else. She couldn't put her finger on it.

He stood abruptly and without so much as turning his head to look at her, he walked towards the door saying, "Well then, you'll understand that I have to go make my statement with IAB, so I can get the fuck out of here. I'll be sure to tell Tucker how _wonderfully_ my holier-than-thou, can-do-no-wrong partner thinks I did my job.

And then she knew what had replaced Elliot's overwhelming sadness. _Anger_. Like an all too familiar nightmarish memory, she was left alone and all that anger... it was directed at her.

* * *

Tucker and his boys were waiting for Elliot when he walked into Cragen's office. If he already weren't in deep shit, he would have wiped those smug grins off their faces with his fists. Instead, he kept those clenched at his side. It wasn't going to be easy for Elliot to keep his emotions in check. After all these years, all the times his ass... and his badge... had been on the line, he had yet to learn how to keep himself in line. That's what Liv was for.

"Stabler," the grin addressed him.

"Let's just get this over with. I really don't need to deal with your commentary right now, Tucker."

"I was _going_ to ask if you were alright to do this now or if you wanted to wait."

Elliot, without missing a step, answered by walking straight into the cage.

"Okay then," he heard Tucker and his minions close behind.

About thirty minutes later, Elliot finished telling Tucker the details of Annette's case, all the way through until he pulled the trigger. He did his best not to leave anything out, without saying too much. He had learned in previous dealings that if he wanted to keep his badge and gun he needed to strike the right balance – between providing enough facts to appease the brass and giving _so_ many facts that he would jeopardize his job.

"We'll have to go over everything again and follow up, but Stabler no one is questioning... you did the right thing. It was a clean shot."

Elliot wasn't sure if Tucker was playing one of his mind games or if the guy was serious.

"I know," he said despite himself, not believing his own words.

"It was your _sixth_ clean shot though. We can't just let this slide. There are going to be stipulations."

So this was a game, the detective realized.

"Four weeks of suspension with pay."

Not ideal, but he was listening.

"When you come back, you'll report directly to me twice a month."

Fuck.

"Six months of desk duty while you attend mandated weekly sessions with our shrink. No screw ups."

No. That would be _six months with his thumb up his ass, with nothing to occupy his mind- nothing to keep him from replaying over and over Jenna's shocked expression when the bullet broke through her chest._

"Look, Stabler. You're a solid detective. NYPD doesn't want to lose you. But this is your last straw."

_Six months of sitting across from his gorgeous best friend, not being able to watch her back- or her back side. _

"We're IAB. We're not the flipping fairy squad. We need to set the right precedent. We can't have people thinking it's okay to use their guns like it's open fucking range out there. "

_Six more months of dreaming what she'd feel like underneath him. _

"And it seems like you got some issues you need to work out, before you're ready to do your job right."

_What it'd feel like to hold her in his arms, in his bed. _

He hadn't been listening to a word.

"No." He had been thinking it and finally said it out loud.

"I won't fucking do it. I don't give a shit about your precedent."

"Well, that's my offer. Take it or leave it, up to you."

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me. You're saying you want me holed up in the squad room, when I could be out pulling perps off the street?"

"Yes. Glad to hear you're catching on, detective. That's exactly what I'm saying."

He hated this prick's guts. He needed to be on the job. Not behind some desk. He needed to be behind his partner, to be there for her. It had gotten to the point where he knew beyond question that protecting her was more important to him than anything the job called him to do. And he knew that was wrong. He was married, for Christ's sake. A _married_ man who would put his partner ahead of any member of the public... any victim, ahead of his livelihood, ahead of his wife, if he was honest even ahead of what was best for his kids.

"You need to put some space between yourself and the work. Clear your head."

Space. That _was_ what he needed. Right? No, he needed to put her first for once. He wasn't going to run again.

"So you think putting me on desk duty is the answer?"

Tucker was silent.

"Well, I guess we're done here then," Elliot turned to leave.

As he reached for the door handle, he heard, "There is another option, I guess."

He let go of the handle and tentatively turned around, "Finally. You're pulling your head out of your ass. Never thought I'd see the day."

Tucker wasn't talking.

"I'm listening, Tucker."

"You're not gonna like it."

"Try me. What could be worse than desk duty?"

"UC."

He could handle it. Get in. Get out. And get back to work. Back to his partner.

"We've got a UC assignment."

"Go on."

"The feds have been following a child sex trafficking ring outta Mexico – Tenancingo - for the past three years. We haven't been able to get our hands on them, because they haven't had a presence in the States until just recently. One of their leaders, Angel Perez, set up shop in over in Queens about three months ago."

Elliot was trying to gauge where Tucker was taking this.

"Real gem, he is. We've been working with the feds to keep eyes on him. Best estimate is he's got anywhere from 20-40 pimps working for him."

"Jesus."

"So you can understand why this is a priority. We need to sink his operation."

"Yeah." Her eyes. This entire ordeal with Tucker, and Elliot couldn't get her or her fucking beautiful eyes out of his head. The prospect of losing his job, the thought of risking his family by going under, and all he could see were her eyes. He knew that if he could just look into them forever, that'd be all he'd need. Consciously or not, she had factored into every decision he made professionally and personally – well, almost every decision.

"What do you want from me?"

"They need someone with experience dealing with these creeps. Someone who knows how to handle guys like Perez. I think you fit the bill."

These were exactly the sick fucks that boiled his blood. Elliot would handle Perez alright. Gladly.

"I'd be happy to put your name in. You take him down. You get your job back. No stipulations."

"Well, that's awfully generous of you Tucker, but how far along is this deal? How long we talkin I'd be gone?"

"They expect about a year."

Elliot laughed.

With his signature Stabler smirk, he retorted, "So let me get this straight. You offered me six months of desk duty and then a better deal of _a year_ or more under cover?"

What a fucking joke. He should have known better. Tucker was just yanking his chains.

"Yeah, no thanks. You can take your _good_ deal and shove it."

"Alright then, Stabler. Give me your gun and badge."

Elliot scoffed, slamming the items that made him a cop- an identity he so fiercely defended- down on the table.

"I'll tell Dr. Hendrix to expect you first thing on Monday."

"Yeah. We'll see about that," Elliot said walking out, not looking back. But not knowing where he was headed either. He knew where he wanted to go... home. But the problem was his house and his family were in one place, and his home was someplace entirely different.

* * *

She didn't have enough hands and feet to count the number of times Elliot Stabler had been mad at her over the past 12 years. And over the past three or four, his anger seemed to present itself with increasing frequency and intensity. She wasn't sure what it said about her, but when he was like this Olivia fell for him even harder. Maybe it was the fact that his anger at her twistedly validated everything she had ever disliked about herself but validated nonetheless. His anger allowed her to be ashamed, provided her justification to blame herself for all that was wrong in the world. Gave her permission to believe she didn't deserve to be loved. None of these were things that were particularly pleasant to feel, but she hadn't had a particularly pleasant life. And there was a familiarity about the way she felt when Elliot was pissed at her. It reminded her of how her mother used to make her feel. Maybe that was why his rage drew her in. Or _maybe_ it was simply the fact that when his fists were clenched, muscles in his arm contracted, vein in his neck visible, and eyes placid, unblinking, it was as if time stood still so she could take in every line, every ridge of his masculinity- and he was so god damn hot.

She couldn't let those thoughts get the best of her. God knows, thoughts of Elliot Stabler had a tendency to get the best of her. At her desk. In the bull pen. On stake outs. At the grocery store. In the morning. At night. In the shower. In her bed. In other men's beds. That line between reality and what was real only in her head was all at once so painfully clear and present and yet so blurred.

As she entered her apartment and dropped her keys on the counter, she knew that she couldn't let those thoughts get the best of her now, because she knew that right now Elliot- wherever he was- was hurting. So, she needed to be there for them in the ways she could. He needed her to be his rock, to support him. Emotionally. Even though it would drain her to be there for him once again without any reciprocation of her feelings, any acknowledgement of her desires, without any recognition that she was a woman with needs, _the_ woman who was always there for him... would always be there for him. It would drain her, but she would tell him everything would be okay, IAB would clear him, and their colleagues would support him. She would reassure him, _'Yes, Elliot it is fine to feel bad about Jenna's death, but there will be another victim, another perp, and we will move on.'_ Their job depended on them moving on.

So, she resolved to stay focused. Focused only on getting him through this. But she couldn't get him through this if he wouldn't talk to her. Ugh. She couldn't fucking stand when he did this, when he shut down on her. He had some nerve, boy. Getting off on shutting down on her, closing himself off, running away, while she waited around like the pathetic, single 40-something she thought of herself as, with a listening ear, open arms, and a heart practically begging to be crushed.

It didn't matter that she was conflicted. It didn't matter that no part of herself could agree with any of the other parts. It didn't matter that as much as she wanted to be there for Elliot, if she had any shred of dignity or any interest whatsoever in self-preservation that she would stay as far away from him as possible. At least for the time being... until he was able to resolve these feelings of rage and anger on his own time, maybe with the help of his own wife. Ha, yeah. _Right_.

Before she even turned her kitchen light on, she decided she wasn't going to let him get away with this. She wouldn't let him treat her this way. She refused to allow him to refuse her being there for him- to refuse her the right to love him the only way she could. Not again. All the parts that wanted to protect her heart and save herself screamed as she turned back around, picked up her keys, and headed back out into the New York City night to find him. She ignored the screaming of her head and deafly listened to her heart. If she was honest, she had no choice because when Olivia was honest and admitted to herself the thing that scared her most in the world, she admitted that the pull of him was stronger than anything else in her life, stronger than any part of who she was alone.


End file.
